


Collide

by sailaway



Series: My Yautja Boyfriend [4]
Category: Alien vs Predator (2004), Aliens vs Predators Series - Various Authors, Predator Original Series (1987-1990), Predators (2010)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Alien Sex, F/M, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Xenophilia, Yautja
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 03:53:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15404361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailaway/pseuds/sailaway
Summary: Her gaze traveled up over the bleached bone and wicked teeth of his macabre trophy collection, her mind's eye filling in what the creatures might have looked like before death.And then her eyes landed, centered in the very top row, on a human skull.





	Collide

**Author's Note:**

> This story ended up much longer than I expected. What can I say, it's a complicated subject! Set directly after _Fire & Gold. _
> 
> Alternate summary for new readers who don't feel like reading the other stories: when your man hunts people but the dick's too bomb

 

* * *

 

 

“You mated the _ooman!?_ ” T'kicta was looking at him as if he'd done something very brave, or fantastically foolish. His bright green eyes were as round as coins. “But why?”

“Why not? She wanted to, and I wanted to.” Solar's tone allowed no room for argument, yet after a moment his upper mandibles drew up in a self-deprecating smile. He'd had no plans to tell T'kicta right away, but his cousin always had possessed an especially keen sense of smell. Kate's scent was subtle, but distinctive enough among a ship full of yautja to be detected despite his very thorough shower.

T'kicta flipped the ends of his short tress as he analyzed this new development, sliding glances Solar's way over the top of the computer banks they were stationed at – appalled, disbelieving, skeptical, intrigued.

“She must be more physically resilient than she appears,” he at last remarked, rather provokingly.

Solar's responding click was vague and noncommittal, prompting a crackle of laughter from the other yautja.

“Keep your secrets, then,” T'kicta snorted. Though from the glint in his eye, it wouldn't be the last time he badgered Solar about it.

Not that it would remain secret for long, anyway. Solar intended to ask Kate if she wished to share his quarters, and he was sure the answer could only be yes. The thought of coming together again at the end of each cycle was very agreeable to him – but the questions he knew he'd get from the clan, less so. Potshots and pestering he could handle, but anyone who dared to be aggressive about it would be dealt with swiftly. Though the way he handled Hirkau would dissuade all but the most combative. The clan leader and other elders might mutter about it, but he gauged it unlikely they would forbid him outright. 

Good things were worth fighting for. And though this differed somewhat from the common manner of fighting for a female, to Solar, the sentiment in it was the same.

He found Kate in her room after his duties were complete. Her expression brightened when the door swished open. She'd known it was him requesting access, so to have such a reaction meant she was pleased at the physical sight of him, and that pleased him in turn. Her long hair was knotted to one side and he wanted to unwind it right then, and card the strands between his fingers as he had just last night. Her smile was bashful, quirking to one side, as if also remembering those intimate activities.

“Your assigned room is very small,” he noted without preamble once she admitted him. “If it is amenable to you, you may transition to sharing mine. There is space enough for two occupants to reside in comfort. It is approximately three times the size of this, conveniently located near the transport lift, and my trophy wall is filled with splendid specimens from ceiling to floor – ”

“You don't have to pitch it to me,” she said.

“Pitch it?”

“Convince me, I mean.” Her eyes sparkled. “Of course I'd rather live with you than in this cupboard. And see your trophies, if you want to show me.”

He swelled with pride, at both her prompt acceptance of his offer and her receptivity to his trophies. No female would care to see such prizes if she did not also have interest in their owner. Not that Kate's interest was in question. She had made that enthusiastically, abundantly clear.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Solar hadn't been exaggerating in an attempt to woo her with larger quarters. His were comfortably spacious, at least for a spacefaring vessel. A front room thirty or so feet long was partly halved by a waist-high divider, and through a doorway to the right, what looked to be a sleeping chamber and washroom. Past a desk and couch, on the wall opposite the door, were mounted a dozen or so skulls. Whitened and varying in size they presided over the space, and he let her go ahead of him as she approached, letting out a single trill of pleasure as she took in the display.

Kate recognized the distinctive elongated curve of _kainde amedha,_ and shuddered. There was something that looked ambiguously crocodilian, with the undulating spine still attached, and a skull with a fragile boned fin running from nose to nape. There was also a long weapon like a pike, old and just for show now, the hook of the blade wicked but long since tarnished and dulled.

Her gaze traveled up over bleached bone and sharp teeth, her mind's eye filling in what the creatures might have looked like before death. When she was nine she'd gone fishing with a friend's family, and before she could bring herself to beat her spasming catch over the head it managed to flop back into the water. Secretly, she'd been glad. She hadn't wanted to kill it.

And then her eyes landed, centered in the very top row, on a human skull.

It took a moment to register it fully. She pointed.

“Did... did you hunt that yourself?” Stupid. Of course he'd never possess someone else's trophy.

He must have taken her question for a sign she was impressed because he clicked in barely-modest affirmation. “It was hard won. For three days it rained unceasing and so my cloak was unavailable to me.”

The skull's sockets gazed blank and unseeing over Kate's head. That had been someone, with thoughts and memories and feelings and fears. What went through that very head, when he died? Had he known he was being stalked, or was he ensnared with only seconds to realize it was happening?

And then soulful, steady, passionate, wryly funny Solar had ripped him open.

Nausea roiled through her and she blew out her breath, spinning around and putting the stark collection to her back.

Solar did not respond to her rejection right away. She could hear the tapping of his tusks, the equivalent of drumming fingers on a table, that signified he was thinking. Finally he said, “He was surely no friend or relation of yours.”

“That's not the point.” She kept her voice controlled and reversed her movement, facing him again. “When did you – take that skull?”

He focused past her as he did the conversion math in his head. “Perhaps... fifty of your Terran years ago. He was a fierce foe but as I observed him in battle I saw he had little honor. I almost did not take the trophy at all. You should not be upset.”

“Battle?”

“A conflict in your planet's Eastern hemisphere. You humans bring much shame upon yourselves in the manner in which you do war,” he opined, as casually as if dismissing an unappetizing bowl of cafeteria slop. “This one and his unit took flesh trophies also, not solely from worthy adversaries, but also the unarmed and defenseless.”

She stared at him, gears turning in her head. “Are you talking about Vietnam?”

The word appeared to have no meaning to Solar and instead he drew her back to him – her feet followed numbly – and indicated a yautja skull. It was not so flawlessly white as the human's, the crest bisected with a crack and wreathed with spikes.

“Here is one of my kind, and I dispatched him myself without qualms. He was _ic'jit_ and it was my duty and privilege to eliminate him.”

 _Ic'jit._ Bad blood. No trace of remorse registered on Solar's features. Had the yautja been of his clan, or a stranger? Would it have mattered to him? She throttled her bubbling laugh of disbelief.

“Would you kill me?”

His mandibles flared wide in offense as he recoiled. “You think I will harm you?”

“I don't mean now! When we met.”

“Of course not. I was there to neutralize an unexpected _kainde amedha_ infestation before it could spread _._ That was all. Besides, you were unskilled and unarmed and incapable of mounting a reasonable defense.”

“Things could have been different. I might've had a gun or something. You could've been hunting me.”

“But things were not different.” He seemed suspicious, as though he was being tricked. “They are as they are.”

“Are you going to do it again? Hunt people. Humans.”

His tusks tapped together. He never shifted his weight to the side when he stood, she'd noticed – his feet were always firmly planted, posture erect. Sure of himself.

“I prefer not to upset you, but neither will I be dishonest,” he at last concluded. “I have taken prey from Terra and so I have no current plans to return, but if the opportunity arose, I would not say no.”

Prey. Hirkau had called her that.

“What if the tables were turned?” she ventured. “How would you feel if humans started hunting yautja?”

“In almost every circumstance they would fail,” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Pretend,” she gritted out.

He was growing fidgety with perplexed irritation. “If the challenge was equal and the hunt fair, the most deserving victor would rightly succeed.”

It was like talking to a locked door. From his expression, he felt the same about her.

Again she looked at the wall of skulls. They were bestial, ferocious, alien – was she a hypocrite for caring about only a single one of them, her own species? She'd assumed the yautja's other quarry were like the _kainde amedha_ , fearsome but animalistic and savage. Maybe she'd assumed wrong. She kept doing that.

“Do you wish to leave me now?” His taut, seething anger transformed his face from one she'd unexpectedly come to love, thoughtful and good-natured even in his natural intensity, to something harsh and intimidating. She'd probably insulted him beyond description.

“No, I don't wish to,” she bit back, letting righteous indignation rush over her misery. “But how can I pretend this isn't here?”

“It would be... a simple matter to remove it.” He capitulated to this with heavy reluctance, as if to do so would be a great sacrifice. Maybe to him it was.

“You know I didn't mean literally, Solar – ”

“Then in this matter I can do nothing to please you!” She flinched at the volume of his exclamation, at how the careful enunciation he always used with her started to blur. “I have killed your kind and I would do it again! Hunting is what I do. What all yautja do. I have done it since before you were a speck in the womb and I will do it until I am dead.”

Embarrassment burned her cheeks. At his sides, the sinews stood out in the back of tensed hands.

“You cannot understand,” he rasped. And then his mandibles clamped shut like a bear trap, as if to prevent himself saying anything regrettable.

“It's true. I don't understand.” Her reply was in English. She couldn't piece together a coherent yautja sentence. “To expect you to change would be unreasonable.” Wholeheartedly, she meant it. “I don't know what to say next, but I should go.”

“Where to?”

“I don't know. Somewhere. Back to my room.” In mere minutes she had rocketed from incandescent contentment down to helpless, humiliated disillusion. The whiplash of emotions made her want to cry but she wouldn't let herself show that kind of weakness. “I just can't be in the same place with you right now, alright?”

He looked wounded, then mad, his usual composure slipping even further. “You insult me with your fear.”

“It isn't fear. I'm not afraid of you, but I don't want to argue anymore. I need to think.”

She turned on her heel and crossed the room, veering around the divider. She pressed the release button by the door but as it slid open Solar materialized at her side and slammed his palm on it, sending it swishing shut again. He blocked the panel with his body, bracing his hand on the frame to create a bar across the doorway.

She glowered at him. “Let me out.”

“I will not.”

This close, it gave her a crick in her neck to meet his unwavering glare. The short quills on his temples were bristling. She'd told the truth when she said she wasn't afraid of him, but now she wasn't quite as sure.

“You wouldn't disrespect a yautja female this way.”

She would've sworn he wavered at that. Their society leaned matriarchal, and females weren't prone to putting up with male nonsense. But he didn't acknowledge the accusation directly, sidestepping it and countering, “A yautja female would not flee from the sight of a trophy.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before...” She trailed off when she realized she wasn't sure if she was speaking more to him, or herself.

Before she let herself fall for a literal extraterrestrial.

It had been barely a day since she'd gazed into his amber eyes, flushed from sex and high as a kite on love for him, absorbing his confessions of mutual feeling like a sponge. Where had her resolve and certainty gone? Her rosy confidence now felt as flimsy as a house of matchsticks.

She averted her gaze and he trilled to recapture her attention, the sound dropping into a low and rhythmic purr.

“Don't you try that,” she mumbled, hardening herself to its tranquilizing effects. He reached for her with his free arm and she ducked, pushing at his chest to stop him. Only once she made contact did she remember that while a shoulder shove meant a challenge, such a touch to a male's chest indicated another desire entirely. Logically he must know that wasn't her intent but he reacted anyway, gathering her up and crushing her to him.

“That's not what I meant,” she insisted, straining against the iron circle of his arms. “Let go.”

He did not obey, so she let her knees give out. The shift in weight caught him off guard and threw them slightly off balance and she took advantage of it, sliding down further, but instead of wriggling free she only succeeded in sending them both to the floor.

Her strength had increased in the past weeks but now that Solar was actually trying, versus just practicing in the _kehrite_ , it was no contest. It was like being tumbled by a wave as he rolled her onto her stomach and covered her from behind, forcing her flailing fists to the ground. His tress made a curtain on either side of her head and despite her struggling he pressed his mandibles into her neck, purring again.

She knew he held back during their training sessions, but he pushed her hard enough that until now she hadn't realized how easy he really went on her. She grunted in frustration and tried to dislodge him, but his calves pinned hers with painful and near freakish ease. Aside from her feet and fingers she was all but immobile.

“You ass,” she panted, and didn't care whether he understood that or not.

It wouldn't be so bad to just lay here, she thought, surrounded by him and pretending – as she'd essentially been doing since day one – that he wasn't a killer. She was aware yautja hunted humans but it wasn't the most common game, and she'd inferred Solar had never done so – somehow she'd figured he wouldn't have bothered with her if he saw her as inferior. As prey.

Clearly he could compartmentalize. 

As the last of her squirming (what little she could manage beneath his unyielding bulk) subsided so did his grip on her, one hand sliding away from her wrist and down her rib cage. A primal part of her thrilled to it and she resented her animal body for betraying her while her rational mind was in such turmoil. His knee slotted between her thighs, nudging them apart, his belt buckle a hard outline on her ass –

 _Knock it off,_ she almost worked up the willpower to demand; but then his hand was sliding underneath her, rucking up her crude rhynth-hide skirt and bypassing her underwear. She let her forehead rest on the polished floor, breath shuddering out of her as his warm hand covered her sex.

He had been so considerate of her last night. Fierce with lust but attentive, careful. Vehement and blunt in the profession of his feelings yet unbearably, heart-stoppingly romantic. Those couldn't be the actions of someone who slaughtered sapient beings for the fun of it. And yet, they were.

The last of her dignity pricked her and she forced herself to say, “Stop it, Solar. I mean it.”

As soon as his weight was off her she rolled upright and scrabbled backward until her back met the wall. He shook his head a little, like a dog shaking off water, tress swinging around his shoulders. He settled onto his haunches, exhaling in an aggravated huff, tipping his head back and observing her down contracting mandibles.

“Are you truly angry?”

Hair had escaped from her bun and she scraped the frazzled wisps out of her face. “Do I not look truly angry?”

He decoded her scowl. “A female will often provoke a male into physical aggression. That way she can gauge his strength, and he can prove his tenacity.”

“Believe me, I was not doing that – ”

Solar cut her off with another huff, the tail end of the sound morphing into a growl. “How can I be expected to know the countless ways our races differ?”

That was fair, she relented, and admitted it with a begrudging shrug and the lowering of her eyes. Heat still throbbed between her legs and she crossed them in annoyance, willing it away. Maybe she wasn't angry. Just confused. Conflicted. Overwhelmingly so.

She didn't say anything as she clambered to her feet. He didn't either, drawing upright with far more grace and cocking his head down at her.

“I'll be back eventually, okay?” She held her hand up, in case he attempted to block her or follow. “Please?”

He looked at her hard before relenting, and moving out of the way.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Solar was so frustrated he could spit. His pent-up energy was ball lightning in his gut. It was as if he'd been spun around too fast on his axis – Kate wanted to see his trophies, then she had been displeased with them, then he thought perhaps he'd been too soft with her and she wanted him to demonstrate his strength, then she was upset with that, too. The cultural misalignment was neither his fault nor hers but, even with the profound connection they had formed, it was still rudely making itself known.

Her arousal had been brief but obvious. Pride made her deny him, and herself. He could respect pride, but it felt so instinctual that a back-to-back display of his skill and strength would please a female that to have it backfire left him at a loss. He supposed he should have predicted it, after the incident in the cafeteria, and then her correction about _oomans_ not always enjoying aggression with their mating. But they had managed their races' differences with few missteps until now, and all at once it was like walking on treacherous ice.

Ordinarily Kate was quick to smile, her expression open and curious, and it was discombobulating to instead see such unhappiness. It made him uncomfortable; especially that particular shine to her eyes. Only rarely had he witnessed this eye-water in her, in times of heightened emotion or extreme physical pain. Her distress must have been great indeed.

Should it have occurred to him that the skull might disturb her? Perhaps it made sense, given what he knew of _ooman_ ways, but trying to adopt her perspective was like staring through a foggy window: he could almost, but not quite, see what was past it.

No matter. It would all untangle itself. He was (mostly) sure.

He had intended to spend the evening in relaxation with Kate – or, engaged in other more vigorous but equally intimate pursuits. Instead he resolved to use this time to prepare what he'd say to his clan leader. Typically the business of mating was of no interest to her but given the unique nature of this situation, he would prefer she learn of it directly rather than secondhand.

Or perhaps he would meditate. His thoughts needed smoothing.

Cold doubt curled around his heart, but he snapped it off as he might have broken a shard of ice in his palm.

Yes. It would all untangle itself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The clan leader had many titles, but she was practical and could not be bothered with flowery formalities, so when he entered her expansive offices the next morning he only inclined his head in deference and said, “Thank you for this private meeting, Leader.”

Olora Jhud-te Kran stood exactly his height, clad in a finely filigreed leather kilt and wide matching cuffs on each bicep. _Kran_ meant “blue,” earned by the rare inky hue of her skin, the coloration only accenting the keen yellow of her gaze as she came in front of her desk to listen to his petition.

Most of the time self-control came readily to him, but Kate had not returned that night, and thus this virtue had been very much tested. But he resolved not to seek her out against her will, and have faith that this visit to his leader wouldn't wind up being for naught.

“Out of respect I wished to inform you of a change in circumstance, before you heard of it through other channels.” Generally it was undignified and impolite to speak of someone when they were not present, but rumors could be unavoidable and persistent, especially about perceived impropriety. “The _ooman_ will no longer be requiring the room that was generously allotted to her, as she will be sharing mine from now on.”

Olora didn't react as she sifted the implications. Unblooded lived in dormitories, bearers and their pups shared chambers, and sometimes related females with young formed a crèche – and the occasional pair who opted for monogamy.

“What is this _ooman_ to you?” The stare she fixed him with was hard, but not hostile. “Do you wish simply to keep your unusual pet at a more convenient distance to you, or have you given way to a more... personal attachment?”

Kate was not his pet, but now wasn't the time to correct his superior. If thinking of her thus made her more palatable to Olora, it was a necessary price to pay.

“The latter.”

Her brisk rattle was one of incredulity, eyes widening and then narrowing to slits. “I'm sure I don't need to convey to you how unprecedented that is. Would you taint your reputation for...” Her brow puckered with distaste, at a loss for an appropriate word. “For a whim? For bodily pleasures with a lesser species?”

“In humility, Leader,” Solar said, “You will remember that I owe this particular _ooman_ great gratitude for her part in completing my mission on Terra. I must also say that I find her not only intelligent in her own right, but understanding and teachable regarding our ways.”

It was not a lie, as it had been true until yesterday, but it tasted like one. He never lied if he could help it. He squashed the fresh pang of displeasure at Kate's unforeseen rejection of his trophies – and, it felt, of him.

“The same commitment and determination that makes you so exemplary can lead to stubbornness, when setting your mind to something.” Olora crossed her arms, tapping a claw on one of her cuffs as she surveyed him. The speckling on her hands was just beginning to gray. “You are not called Ke'Hullan for nothing, hmm?”

He sensed it was a rhetorical question, and only made a chirr of respectful acknowledgment as she mulled it over.

At last she let out a rumble of resignation. “Your judgment has always proved near-impeccable, so I will trust it now.”

Solar dipped his head again. “You have my appreciation and gratitude, Leader.”

“But mind your _ooman_ ,” she warned as he took several steps backward then turned to leave. “And yourself. Others may not be as tolerant as I am.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The _ulata_ court was an oval pit, maybe half the length of a football field, set within a horseshoe shaped amphitheater with a few dozen seating rows wrapping around. Kate sat on the top bench – with attention diverted to the game, it was one of the few places she knew she had little fear of being peered at or bothered.

The yautja may be competitive and severe but _ulata_ was more casual, a light way to blow off steam and excess energy. No lives on the line, no glory or honor at stake. There was a scattering of observers and some even drank alcohol, obtained from a bar near the entrance, lounging on the benches and conversing.

Regulations were basic and loose. It required two teams of four at minimum and maxed out at nine or ten on each side, players coming and going freely as their schedules dictated. The weighty, springy soccer-sized ball was bounced anywhere off the body – hands and feet excluded – with the intent of keeping it in play at all times. Points were lost for letting it touch the ground, and gained by getting it through vertical hoops, one on either side of the steep, sloping walls of the court.

The casual nature of the game didn't stop it from being intense. No surprise there. The handful of yautja on the court, barefoot and unarmored save for kilts and loincloths, grunted and yelled like tennis players with each connection of the ball to hip or head or forearm.

Kate propped her elbow on her knee and chin in her hand, zoning out to the repetitive bounce of the ball on floor and walls and fighting to keep her eyelids open. Last night, alone in her little room, she'd barely slept.

Boyfriends with shortcomings were one thing. Boyfriends who stalked, hunted, and killed people were another. Nothing had prepared her to process a discovery so awful about someone who had saved her life, looked out for her, someone she felt bonded to on a frequency she'd never known possible.

She had no one to blame but herself. It was damn thoughtless – naive – of her not to have put two and two together.

How carefully had she really thought all this through? Until Solar had accosted her in the hallway she'd operated under the assumption – admittedly not often dwelled on – that she'd return home at some point. But once confronted with their feelings, she couldn't bear to leave him. Nor was he prepared to let her go. But the hard truth of the trophies had smacked her straight out of her buoyant fantasy.

Could she cut her losses and return to a regular life? Get a real job for once, pay the bills, confine her travels to one solitary planet knowing what was really out there? Sleep under the same stars forever more? She'd never thought of Earth as small. Now it really did seem like the proverbial blue marble.

She wouldn't be able to tell anybody. She'd have to bury the secret inside her the rest of her days, or else end up in an asylum or a classified government facility. (Did the government know about extraterrestrial life? That opened up a whole new avenue of thought. Maybe it was a yautja that crashed in Roswell.)

And imagining dating a normal man? Might as well pour cold concrete straight into her gut. The effect would be the same.

Would she have been missed by now? It wasn't unheard of for her to fall off the grid for months at a time. It must run in her blood: she'd never known her father and her mother had always been a free spirit. They'd lived with Grandma Jo since Kate was born, and not long after her sixteenth birthday her mother disappeared to India with a yoga instructor. It hadn't felt like an abandonment: that was just Mom. After Grandma Jo passed when Kate was twenty-one there were no more ties, and for a while she floated like a dandelion seed on the wind.

She'd been traversing an unmapped slot canyon in southern Utah when she encountered the _kainde amedha..._ and Solar. She'd left her route info under the Grand Canyon magnet on her fridge, so people would know where to look, but she wouldn't be the first experienced hiker to vanish into the wilderness. Or the first twenty-something to drift off to wherever caught her fancy.

Such a casual dismissal of her “fate” should bother her more than it did. Sure, there were relatives and acquaintances who might think, “what a shame,” but would anyone really think of her a few years down the road? She couldn't solidly say yes.

So occupied was she by her meandering thoughts that she didn't notice Solar's entrance onto the court until she heard his name. The yautja who'd called out jogged over to greet him, and appeared to be pointing out the teams as Solar tied back the top half of his tress.

She would've sworn he'd still be on shift. Maybe she miscalculated. Her brain still kept slipping back into the default of a 24 hour day.

Well, she wasn't going to be petty and leave.

She'd seen Solar play twice before but was still engrossed by it. Besides, those times she'd hastily squashed any attraction to his athletic and near-nude form and channeled it into simple appreciation of the game. Now, unhampered by denial, she was free to admire him in full.

He was good – agile and quick with his movements and powerful with his shots, lunging forward almost into a kneel as he deflected the ball off his crest and towards a teammate. He had more distinctive cuffs and beads in his tress than most others did and they caught the light as he spun and ducked, darting into place to receive a pass, colliding with an opponent as they jostled for position.

When he scored off his hip he tossed a glance her way. Of course she knew they were both aware of each other's presence, but she turned her head to hide her begrudging grin. He wasn't fooled and he trilled, the sound faint across the distance, and whistled in his throat to make her look as he juggled the heavy ball from knee to knee and sent it flying across the court. His torso twisted with the motion, muscles in his abdomen flexing, and Kate reddened guiltily as the large female on the lowest bench turned to see who Solar was showing off for.

When she saw Kate she chortled like a kookaburra, but with no malice, while her friend next to her called to Solar, “Score again, warrior, and I will give you my room code so you may visit during my next heat!”

A couple players hooted, but Solar was in the midst of a tussle to intercept the ball and either didn't hear or didn't have opportunity to respond.

Kate shifted uncomfortably on the bench, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her skirt. Such banter – not to mention the total lack of shyness about sex – was a normal part of yautja sociability and no harm was meant by it. She might have laughed it off if not for the earlier incident regarding the trophies. Where before she'd felt rock solid now she felt tenuous, balanced earnestly but precariously on a tightrope.

There were only two choices. Hold on, or fall.

Maybe three. Hold on, fall, or let go.

When Solar wound up near her side of the court he looked her way once more, his assertive showmanship dissolving into sober, speculative focus. But Kate's view was hampered as a vaguely familiar yautja with a short tress, undressed in preparation to play, came down the next row and planted himself before her.

“If you think _mei-dakata_ is good,” he clicked, setting his hands on his hips, “You must stay and discover what real skill looks like!”

“I, uh... I've seen enough _ulata_ for now,” she demurred. What was _mei-dakata?_ “I was about to leave.”

“But you have not watched T'kicta play.” His green eyes lit up as he boasted, so vivid they were almost fluorescent as he thumped his chest to indicate he spoke of himself. “So can you say you have really watched _ulata_ at all?”

His manner was nonthreatening, cocky but impish, and Kate couldn't help but smile. It was not often a yautja approached her, especially one so congenial. It was much nicer than being scrutinized or ignored.

“I must admit,” the yautja confided with a clacking laugh, “I would never have thought to mate a _ooman!”_ Kate's brief sojourn into relaxation vanished and she flushed scarlet, doing her utmost to maintain a facade of polite composure. How did he know? Solar must have told him. Why did he do that? “He always was clever!”

“What is _mei-dakata?_ ” she asked, redirecting the conversation.

“Our bearers are sisters.”

Oh; he and Solar were cousins.

“You do not look alike,” she commented, just for something to say. She slid sideways on the bench, out of his shadow, trying to keep the movement discreet. “Who is older?”

“He is,” T'kicta said, “But by only a few spans. And make no mistake,” he added, top mandibles drawing up in a way that looked very much like a smirk, “Despite his accomplishments, there is one area I am confident I can outstrip him if given the chance!”

At the end of this section of seating there was an exit. If she left he wouldn't come after her, would he? Since he was here to play?

Before Kate lost her nerve she stood up. “I'm sure I will see you on the court another time,” she said courteously.

He didn't seem deterred as she walked away, following along on the lower bench, letting out a burble that was probably meant to be seductive. Maybe she should've been more direct. Interacting with yautja was like walking on eggshells.

Just as she reached the stairs she felt a tug at the end of her ponytail. Without thinking she pivoted, snapping back out of arm's length and retreating several steps down, keeping her back away from him. She could never hold her own hand-to-hand against an adult yautja – she hadn't been offended when Solar said so, it was only practical – so he'd always emphasized teaching her defense tactics. Evading, feinting, guarding, de-escalation, only using her knife if an attacker forced contact. Strict defense rather than offense was rather un-yautja-like... she should've thanked him for tailoring his lessons to her.

The green-eyed yautja blinked in surprise at her swift sidestep, but seemed entertained, chirping and mirroring her movements down the stairs, as if it were a game. She was losing patience with his flirtation and hardened her face into a pointed scowl. He took a step back toward her.

“T'kicta!”

Kate knew that voice. She spun around to see Solar advancing up the steps, taking them two at a time. His tone was mild but his eyes narrowed as he drew up to them, his back to the court so nobody could see his face. “Have you come to play with us, or to harass the _ooman?_ ”

“A conversation is not harassment,” T'kicta protested.

“Your cousin tells me you've been talking,” Kate said to Solar with artificial civility, raising a meaningful brow. Who knows what he'd said, to make her a target of the younger yautja's attention.

“I said nothing – ”

“He speaks truth,” T'kicta interjected helpfully. “I could scent it on him. I have a very good sense of smell – ”

“Go away,” Solar hissed in exasperation.

“Maybe she doesn't want me to go away! Maybe she would like to mate me now also.”

Solar did a double take – she'd never seen him do that before, and on some level it registered as unexpectedly funny – then scoffed.

“You gave that prospect no thought at all until now. I know this because if you had, you would have told me so, since you cannot keep your jaws shut about anything. You are driven only by curiosity, not desire! Besides,” Solar continued, as T'kicta began to object, “If you knew anything of _oomans_ , you'd be able to tell this one has no interest in you. A yautja female would have knocked you down the stairs already for such pestering.”

“I have never conversed with a _ooman_ before! How am I to know what they like and dislike – ”

“Common sense never was your strength, T'kicta, but even you – ”

Their argument so rapid-fire now that Kate was having trouble following. Or determining if they were genuinely arguing at all. Play was continuing on the court, but some of the observers in the stands had overheard the commotion and turned to watch the bonus entertainment.

“Stop, okay?” she blurted. When both males' heads swiveled to fix on her she almost quavered, but couldn't retract the exclamation now. She'd had enough of high-handed yautja.

She angled her body completely away from T'kicta, pleading under her breath, “Solar, tell him I'm not interested.”

“You must tell him yourself,” he responded in an undertone. He stood a step below her, bringing them closer to eye level than normal. “My opinion about it is irrelevant. Males make no claim over females, so he will disregard anything I say.”

She took a moment to assemble the correct words in her mind, then rotated back around.

“T'kicta,” she began, maintaining eye contact and a firm voice. It was difficult, after growing accustomed to tiptoeing around the yautja. “I do not want to mate you. What I want is to be only with Solar. You and I can be friends, if you like, but no more than that.”

T'kicta made a noise of dejection.

“My pardon, _ooman,_ ” he rasped contritely, but immediately recovered from the rebuff, examining her gimlet-eyed like a sparrow. “What is 'ssso-lerrr?'”

“I call him that because can't say his full name,” Kate said self-consciously. “I can't make the right sounds.”

T'kicta folded his arms, mandibles shut tight and all but trembling with restraint. At last he was unable to resist and he guffawed, “But you can say mine.”

Solar shot up the steps and hit him close-fisted on the side of his crest. The younger male yelped, and Kate cringed, but T'kicta seemed more sheepish than hurt and neither yautja appeared especially outraged.

“Go, take my place,” Solar chuffed without ire, shoving his now-chuckling cousin down the stairs toward the court. “Inflict your foolishness on them instead.”

He let out a long breath as he turned back to her. Kate was aware of a few curious eyes on them, but she'd grown used to that by now. At a loss for what to do with her hands, she linked them behind her back. Solar's posture was proud and formal, but his brow was soft. Before he could speak she said quickly, “Just so you know, I wasn't flirting with him or anything.”

Solar rumbled in acknowledgment. “Unfortunately for every female in T'kicta's proximity, that isn't an automatic deterrent. Eventually he will irritate the wrong one and learn his lesson. He is inexperienced, and very...”

“Young, dumb, and full of come?” Kate supplied, holding back a giggle.

He blinked, translating the figure of speech, and when he got it he laughed, the low rasp rolling from him as the tension in his shoulders evaporated. “It is not unlike our saying – _thwei-a r'ka._ ”

Now it was her turn to translate. “Fire in the blood?”

He nodded, mandibles flexing into a smile. Affectionate, comfortable warmth filled her; this felt better. Felt right. Then his expression ebbed back down into restless thought. Awkwardly she scuffed the lip of the stair with her boot toe.

“Two nights ago.” His words were low, but clear. Only a few hand spans separated them now. She was all but physically drawn to him, as if he were gravity itself. “The things I said. I know you doubt none of it.”

“It's not that easy.” Her stomach churned. Funny. Just yesterday it was the sight of the human skull that nauseated her. Now it was the thought of letting it come between them.

He trailed one talon over her collarbone. She had to angle her head to the side in order to tip it far enough back to meet his eyes.

“I'm not someone you can hunt with, or take into battle, you know,” she muttered. “I don't want to kill unless I have to. We'll never take trophies together.”

“I know this. I train you the way I do so you may defend yourself if need be. I am under no illusions about what you are or are not.” Solar tilted his head the same direction as hers. “Your newfound reservations are your own, Kate. Do not invent some to assign to me.”

His retort held the bite of indignation, but it was equal parts chastising and melancholy, and she wanted to close the last scrap of space between them more than she wanted to breathe. Past him, she could see a friendly argument breaking out on the court. He didn't turn to look.

Yautja didn't sweat but exercise left him very hot to the touch. Her fingers fit along the dips and grooves of his musculature, exploring the suede-like fringe of his belt. He let her idle hand wander, apparently unconcerned with the public display of affection – not that anyone was probably watching anymore now that the tiff had died down –

“Tell me your name again,” she murmured. He made a questioning _brr_ in his throat, like a cat. “I want to say it.”

“Forget T'kicta's teasing,” Solar said dismissively, covering her hand with his own.

“It's your name and I want to pronounce it properly. All of it.” Last time she tried, she'd known no more than a dozen yautja words. Now she was approaching fluency. Maybe she could do it. “Please.”

He regarded her. “Repeat the syllables after me, then. Akh.”

“Akh.” She remembered that, a deep “ch” as in _loch,_ the walls of her throat not quite touching.

“Sol.”

“Sol.”

The next sound he made was guttural, a curling but punctuated hum that started with a commonplace “ah” but slid immediately into something beyond replication.

“No, that's where you lose me.” She slid her hand up to the hollow at the base of his neck. “Do it again.”

He obliged, larynx fluttering under her fingertips, and she attempted, but it just sounded like she was choking on something unpleasant. She dropped her head and frowned at the floor. She couldn't deal with his trophies, and she couldn't even say his name right.

“...kilis,” he finished, the _k_ more of a throaty click than the letter she knew. Then his big hand came up to the nape of her neck, pulling her forward until her forehead touched his chest, and confided, “When T'kicta was a pup he could not say his own name for the longest time. Next time you see him, call him Kiki.”

Despite her frustration Kate laughed. As she did a trio of unbloods passed them on the steps, shuffling sideways as they went up so as not to bother them and ducking their heads, one after another, in respect to Solar as a blooded warrior.

“We should probably go,” she suggested, and though he relinquished her, the furrow in his brow was one of clear dissatisfaction. “What, do you want to keep standing on the stairs?”

“That depends if you intend to leave by yourself or with me.”

She fiddled with her ponytail, and at last blew out a sigh.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The human skull was gone, and the others rearranged to fill the empty spot on the wall. Kate decided not to bring it up, not wanting to revisit that subject quite yet, but she was grateful for the gesture. The trophy was proof of his prowess, one of the few things that really mattered to yautja, and he'd removed it. For her.

“I haven't seen your bedroom yet,” she said – a bit coy, but more shy.

Up a wide step was the doorway into it. Shelves and storage compartments wrapped around the room to frame the low bed centered on the left wall, almost a perfect 9'x9' square and strewn with furs. Kate ran her fingers along one of thick gray and black merle, and as she sat on the edge she gasped in surprise.

“Your bed is so soft!” She bounced a little on the edge of the cushiony mattress, riffling the fur. “All this time I've been sleeping on the equivalent of a cheap futon, and thinking that was standard for you guys.”

“It is for unbloods.” Solar crossed his arms, clicking smugly. “Some yautja opt for traditional hammocks. I should have shown you the bed first, and then I would have secured your unfailing devotion.”

On the adjacent wall the largest compartment's double doors were ajar, revealing the silvery glint of metal. She rose from the bed, reaching to open the doors further, and glanced at Solar to be sure he didn't mind. He didn't move to stop her.

Inside was a yautja-sized frame on which hung his mask and full set of armor. On the compartment wall behind it were other pieces of armor suited for different purposes: the sturdy half-breastplate she recognized from Earth, but the rest she hadn't seen before. There was also another bio-mask, beat up and simpler in design than the one he usually wore, with the mark of his chiva on it. She'd learned that some clans marked their bodies but Solar's only the masks, which thereafter were kept for special occasions.

Trusting he would object if it was not permitted, she traced the etching on the mask's dome. It was similar to an X, but curved on both sides, like two loose Cs back to back. What had he been like when he was younger? She envisioned him, bold and adrenaline-fueled, signaling the achievement of his first _kainde amedha_ kill with its blood. Despite the symbol's organic origin, it was almost perfectly symmetrical. It had been done with care.

This is who Solar was. The hunt, the chase, the conquest: it was not just important to him. It was inherent, instinctual, as vital and natural as the blood coursing through his veins. No different than any apex predator.

“How old are you, Solar?”

He looked at her oddly but answered the out-of-the-blue question without hesitating. “Two hundred and fifteen spans. Which would be... approximately three hundred and twenty of your years.”

Kate managed to refrain from balking. She'd known it was something like that, and he was not at all old by yautja standards, but it was still a bit of a shock to hear it. “And you can live to, what, a thousand Earth years, right?”

“That is possible, but not common. More usual would be about eight hundred.”

When she was long dead he'd still be young. Humbling, and intimidating. She wasn't sure she liked it. But there was no changing it, and so she resolved to focus on what they could.

“Axol'akilis.” That was the best she could do. It wasn't right, but he didn't grimace even in jest at her stumbling imitation. “Will you promise me something?”

His expression was guarded. “If I can.”

“No hunting humans for as long as I'm in your life.” She waited for his resistance. His inhalation was deep, broad chest filling and then, very slowly, subsiding – but he did not speak, only listened, motionless and intent. “However I leave it, whether by death or by choice, you'll have centuries of opportunity after me to hunt on Earth again. But until then. No people.”

His considering gaze was steely and serious, mandibles still. Some yautja probably wouldn't view an agreement with a mere human as binding, but Kate knew Solar wouldn't give his word unless he intended to keep it. There was much she still had to learn about his world, but in this, she had complete faith.

He closed the gap separating them, reaching behind her to shut the compartment. His attention lingered, pensive, on his things before returning to her face. His own was taut with contemplation as he took her cheeks in careful hands, searching as if to be sure she was paying close attention. She curved her palms over his wrists, and beneath her fingertips his pulse thrummed its steady four-part beat.

In gravelly English, Solar said, “I promise.”

Cool relief swept through her, and in yautja she replied, “Thank you.”

She rose up, running her hands along his arms, and he slid them around her waist to lift her off the floor. His embrace was a tad too forceful, but she understood the feeling behind it, and didn't protest.

“I liked watching you play _ulata,_ ” she said. “I always did.”

He puffed up a little, but his voice was exaggerated for humorous dramatic effect as he said, “Yes, even a _ooman_ unfamiliar with the game can see that I am good.”

“It's not just that. Although, you are.” His tress was still swept back at the crest but one tendril had come loose, and she toyed with its criss-crossing leather cord and the bead laced into it. “I like watching you move.”

He bounced her up further and hitched her thighs around his waist, backing up to the bed and sinking down on the edge of it.

“I like seeing you without your armor on. Watching how your body flexes.” Her ears grew hot, but she was spurred on by the heavy-lidded focus in his eyes, by the swell of his inhaling lungs against her breasts.

“And I liked it when you touched me in the _kehrite_ ,” she continued. An ache unfurled in her core, and her breath caught as his hands expanded over her back. “How we'd grapple together, and you'd always beat me, and I didn't realize why I liked it when you had me trapped beneath you – ”

“Yes,” he groaned, setting his forehead against hers. “I too... and I assured myself it was only the challenge and novelty of teaching someone so untried and physically different that appealed to me...”

Remembering how he'd responded before to her mouth on his neck, she brushed his tress aside and did it again. His arms tightened around her; she bit down on a tendon, harder than she would've with a human man, and he startled but growled in pleasure. She ran her fingertips over the contours of his crest, working off the strip that restrained his tress. She took a tendril in each hand and stroked from root to tip, and with a low yowl his hips stuttered up into hers.

She shifted back to unclasp his belt, and his loincloth was loose in a few flicks of her hand. She drew away the fabric, reaching for –  
  
“What?!” Where two nights ago his cock had been was now only a prominent mound, structured like an inverted triangle, the ridges of his abdominal muscles arrowing down and around it. She gaped in shock. “Where...?”

A high keen of mirth burst out of Solar, just short of a full on cackle. “I take it your _ooman_ males have no sheath! That does not seem very practical. They must be hurting themselves all the time.”

“Wait, a – a what?”

Scooting back further onto his knees she could see there was a semi-circular seam at the bottom, and he just laughed again and gathered her flush against him once more.

The sheath felt like cartilage, firm but somewhat springy – and not unpleasant, she decided with a blush. With her skirt bunched up there was nothing but her thin underwear separating them and she tilted her pelvis forward experimentally. His claws sought bare skin as she rubbed on the sheath, cooperating with him only as much as necessary to yank her shirt off. His scent was faint and earthy, like a garden after rain, and she pressed her face into his neck and inhaled, tasted, kissed. Distantly she wondered if it was possible to leave a hickey on him.

It was obvious when the sheath retracted, replaced by the distinct jutting hardness of his cock, the scalloped head catching on her underwear. The slide of him through the damp fabric was torture and she gripped his waist with her thighs, chasing the sensation, before finally forcing herself to break free and divest the rest of her clothes.

He remained on the edge of the bed, un-self-conscious, hands braced on his knees as he watched her untie the skirt and shimmy out of her underwear. When he reached to pull her back into his lap she shoved his chest, solid and unmistakable. He hissed in arousal and dragged her astride him, moving back into the middle of the bed and bringing her with him.

Locking her ankles around him she squirmed onto his sleek length, and her shamelessness only seemed to inflame him, his movements rough and jerky as he pulled at her hairtie.

“I only have a couple of those,” she warned breathlessly, “Don't break that – ”

She didn't hear a pop, so she figured it was safe, but she could hardly be bothered about it now as his claws raked her scalp, sending a frisson down her spine. He wound a section of hair around his hand, rattling long and deep, tugging her head to the side and closing his tusks over her shoulder in mimicry of the way she'd bitten him. Something sandpapery and wet glanced off her skin, and with a jolt of desire she wondered if it was his tongue.

She fumbled for his his free hand and pulled it between them to the juncture of her thighs. He seemed to like her assertiveness, reacting with an upward surge of his body as she rocked against his palm, her small hand spreading over the wide span of his knuckles. Each undulating roll of her hips wound her tighter, and the occasional prick of claws on her inner thighs only stoked the heat building inside her.

Suddenly his hand was withdrawn and then his cock was pressing into her, silky and hot, stretching her slick flesh. She moaned raggedly, a high and compliant sound, and as her head lolled forward against his pectoral he growled.

“I have a fire in my blood for you, _taana.”_ He drew her head back, golden eyes piercing and hot. “I would see your face.”

When she was seated fully on him she sucked in air through her teeth, dizzied by the indescribable sensation. He ground his jaw, and for a moment neither moved – he was waiting for her to take the lead, she realized. She could feel the tension in his thighs from his restraint. So she shifted forward, feeling her own body contracting around him; his gaze faltered, eyelids drifting shut, air leaving him in a tight rush.

“What does _taana_ mean?” she breathed.

“ _Taana..._ ” he said, opening his eyes again, “Is a word, that...” He broke off with a groan as she slid a little off his cock, claws scratching her waist where he gripped her. “It is an intimate word.”

She arched her back as she sank back down, reveling in the stroke of his cock's ridges on her inner walls.

“Like a naughty nickname?” she teased, the question kicking up into a gasp as he thrust up to meet her, the retracted sheath's edge grazing her clit.

“No.” A faint rustle rippled through his tress, and his arms wrapped fully around her. “Not so much related to mating. It means...”

He trailed off, and she couldn't tell if he was unable to come up with a close equivalent, or was just having trouble concentrating. She canted forward, sighing at the bloom of coiling pleasure, nails digging into his shoulders with no fear of harming him.

“ _Kch'taana ei-osde,_ ” he recited, “Is... to say to someone that... that they are in your center.” He didn't seem confident with that explanation, mandibles twitching with dissatisfaction, but she stilled them with her fingertips.

“Don't worry. I think I understand.” Her hand trailed down, finding the strong pound of his heart. “Here?”

“Yes.” He purred in assent, drawing her even closer, driving his hips up and making her sharply inhale. “There.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

After, as Kate lay sprawled atop him with his claws tracing formless patterns on her back, her thoughts were as still as a pond. She waited for a tinge of guilt, like she was selfish, betraying her own kind... but there was nothing. Only languorous, contented peace.

For such a large creature, Solar breathed very quietly. She had to shift, and place her ear just right on his torso, to hear it.

While the complexities of the situation perhaps remained morally muddy, to her mind, selfish meant caring nothing for others or about who you hurt – and this hurt no one. She'd even made him swear he wouldn't. While she still struggled to accept the things he'd done before, she was aware of the weight of the promise he'd made going forward.

And that was enough. It would have to be. It was.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She looked smaller when she slept. Where yautja took up space in repose, Kate was the opposite, folding her limbs in on themselves like the blades of a shuriken. Solar was surprised she had fallen asleep – but then, _ooman_ day cycles were shorter, and so her sleep patterns would naturally not always align precisely with his own.

She was not so very unlike that weapon, he thought as he slipped out from under her, leaving her to settle in the furs with only a flicker of her eyelids as he went to wash. Simple and harmless upon first glance, but incisive when compelled, capable of correcting for user error and, if properly treated and handled, always returning.

His clan leader may have called her a pet in ignorance, but Olora could not have been more misinformed. Kate was no casual plaything. She began as an obligation; next, an unexpectedly novel and diverting guest. Then somehow, without either realizing it was happening, she had flown swiftly past friendship and slid with innocent but devastating force into the soft places within him.

Yes. Very much like a shuriken.

He glanced back at his _ooman_ as he left the washroom. He'd wrestled with the decision to agree to her request, his pride and principle putting up an immediate resistance – but when he forced himself to think reasonably, he had to concede it was not a great sacrifice. Not when there was other worthy prey available. Not when he'd had no intention to return to Terra in the near future anyway. Not when he himself had asked her, all but on his knees, to stay here with him.

It had almost taken him aback, how little time it took him to make the vow she asked for, and how sincerely he gave it. But when her simultaneously resolute and tentative hope had melted into overwhelmed gratitude, and she was in his arms, he knew right away it was more than a fair trade.

Now, her hair was a sun's corona around her – it tangled very easily, those strands. He liked the configurations she could put it into. Her features were tranquil, so different from his own in both shade, structure, and smoothness, but now so beloved to him. The part of her plush lips reminded him that he must still determine what she'd meant that first night, when she suggested there were further pleasures those lips could offer.

There would be time enough for that. Time enough for everything.

He crossed the room, back to the bed. She did not stir as the mattress gave way under his weight. He was not tired, not at all... but decided that, for now, it would be very nice to rest.

Around his wrist, he idly snapped her hairtie.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
